Etiam Alter Locus: Prime Signa
by May a Chance
Summary: Hazel Sage Potter is different in every dimension. In one she is Harry's twin, in the two subdimensions of that, she's dead or alive. Going into the 5,000,000 susbsubdimensions, per each, it gets even more complicated. Lucky Hazel is tossed into a dimension she has already lived; her mission, save every life possible.
1. Chapter 1: The Almightly GRJones

**A/N: Hi. I want to know if anyone likes the idea behind this, and if so, I'll continue.**

* * *

If there was one thing Grim Reaper Cliff Jones (the almighty, he like to think, but truth be told, Cliff was just a regular family Grim Reaper) did not want to deal with it was the Potter twins.

Hazel Sage and her twin Harry James both had died an extraordinary amount of times compared to the average of one. Nine times, each. eighteen deaths in seventeen years; something few had managed without trying, and no one ever tried. Thank Freyja for that. Each Grim Reaper was responsible for a family, and Cliff had a particularly hard time, but if people tried to die, he would be doomed. Especially if those people were of the terribly annoying wizarding family of the Potter's.

Cliff was even a bit scared to look over each death, as all were not pretty, right down to the first death for the twins when they had been stepped on, and crushed with ribs through hearts, lungs and other internal organs, by their dear Uncle at the extremely young age of fifteen months.

'Those two are nothing but trouble!' Cliff grumbled mentally. 'How can they raise three children so close in age so badly? How is it possible to be able to crush a child that easily? Why can't that oaf watch his step!'

Dudley Vernon Dursley was a monster, son of Vernon Dudley Dursley and Petunia Achillea Dursley. After being spoiled for his entire life, the boy had been horrified to learn that not everyone would obey his every word; in fact, most people thought him to dumb to listen to.

Hazel Potter was extraordinarily dreamy, stick thin, and never spoke out against anything. She had never been spoiled, never been given presents (compared to her cousins at least 35 a birthday) and had never even eaten a decent meal.

The same was said for Harry Potter. Only he was far more outgoing than his twin. He would speak out quite a bit, but never against his relatives; Harry, like his sister, was extraordinarily kind and gentle.

Cliff rubbed his eyes as someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," he called absently, and in stepped the two twins he had never wanted to see less.

"What the Freyja are you doing here!" He screeched, lobbing a crystal ball at Harry and a paper holder at Hazel. "You two must be insane, dying again! If I ever see you in this office again, I will kill you both!"

Cliff continued to rant and throw objects for several more minutes before gaining control of his emotions.

"Sorry."

Hazel waved it off arily with a smile. Harry flicked his wrist and the office was just as it had been when the pair had entered. An amazing display of wandless magic, considering the teen was just that, a teen, even if legally an adult to the WIzarding World.

"Sir, I was wondering if you could tell us what's happening?" Hazel said in her soft voice.

Her twin nodded in agreement.

Cliff took a long, steadying breath. "Okay, Haze, you recently died. For the ninth time, same with your brother. I am your family Grim Reaper Cliff Jones. I'm guessing you want to know how you died each time. Here it is."

Cliff took another lond breath. "When you were left at your aunt's house, that Vernon man stepped on both of you, and considering he weighs as much as a whale, the results were unsurprising if uncompromisingly horrible. You were crushed to death. At seven, after the apparation incident, your Uncle killed you again, this time with a kitchen knife. You both bled to death. At eleven, you, Haze, were killed by the troll while heading to your Common Room, while Quirrel killed Harry personally. At twelve, Harry was killed by the basilisk, and same with you, different days, though. Thirteen was the falling-from-the-sky nonsense. The dementor incident, for the both of you. Fourteen was the dragon, fifteen being the other dementor incident; you both lost your souls, sixteen was by Death Eaters, and finally, seventeen was sacraficing yourselves so Voldemort could die. Well, Harry sacraficed himself and Hazel was just killed."

He whiped sweat off his brow. "Freyja, so many deaths is horrifying. Why can't you die at a ripe old age like normal people." He compained sadly.

By that time the twins were fiercely pale. Like, even paler than their normal porcelain pale.

Harry was a tall, scrawny boy with messy black hair and piercing emerald green eyes. He had typical, high Potter cheekbones and was essentially identical to his father, save for the eyes, those were his mothers; as clear and piercing as his mothers.

Hazel was small and slight, with long, wavy red hair and almond shaped emerald eyes. In every way, Hazel was the spitting image of her mother, right down to the softly arched eyebrows and long red hair, kept in the same style as her mother.

"But why are we here, not in Hades' realm or something? Are we not worthy of him or something?" Harry asked.

Cliff laughed. "Oh, Hades exists alright, but you did not die when you were supposed to at the ripe old age of 135, 136 for Hazy here. But no! You are constantly being killed! You've died once a year for seven years straight now and twice before then! Anyways, all those death deities exist."

Hazel shrugged her slim shoulders. "Okay, but why are we here?"

"Right, you are here because you have one more shot at living to your death-age. I can send you back to the world of the living at any point before you die and after your born to try and save as many lives as possible."

The twins did that creepy glance thing, before Harry nodded decisively. "Alright. July 31st, 12 A.M., right when Hagrid bursts into the hut on the sea, 1991."

Hazel nodded in the same manner. "Perfect time, Sir Jones. We woud like to keep our memories, all of them, thank you very much, and we would like to begin immediately."

"Then follow me, Harzel twins!"

"Ew," Hazel said softly as she followed after the Grim Reaper. "We do _not_ have a couple name. Even Fred and George didn't do that."


	2. Chapter 2: You Look Like A Vampire

To say that Hazel was confused would be the understatement of the Wizarding World.

She had woken up from death on a overly puffy couch, been told by a tall guy in a suit to enter the room labeled 'Grim Reaper Clifford Jones'. Upon meeting GR Jones, she had been told that she had died nine times, including the latest death, and only had one shot a long happy life.

Then, she was supposed to follow this GR Jones bloke to follow him to the Renewal Chamber to be sent back in time to her eleven year old (by less than a second) self so that she could save hundreds of lives by defeating Voldemort early.

Yay.

Cliff smiled and called back, "You alright back there Harzel?"

And Hazel groaned. Then Harry moaned. "Come on, GR Jones," Harry complained. "Don't call us Harzel for God's sake."

"I don't know about for God, he's got nothin' much to do with death compared to Freyja and Hades and Donn and Nergal and Supay and Shinigami and Osiris and Tuonni and Mors and El Tío and Yama and Mara and Ankou and Grim Reaper and Azrael and, and, and- damn, their gonna kill me! I forgot most of the death deities out there! Anyways, in my, or any other death person's presence, use Freyja of Yama."

Hazel just shrugged.

"They're the most forgiving when you use their name in such a way." Cliff explained with an easy grin, which was surprisingly calm considering a half hour before he was practically trying to kill the Harzel- if you call me that I'll kill you -twins.

The Renewal Chamber was a large, stone room with ornately carved walls.

A receptionist sat at a beautifully carved stone desk. "Hello, Reaper Jones. These two are trying for renewal?"

Cliff nodded decisively. "Hazel Sage Potter and Harry James Potter of the Wizarding World would like to return to the Living Realm."

"Praeteritum or praesens?"

"Praeteritum, please. July 31, 12 A.M., the Hut-On-The-Sea, 1991, if that's possible, Restitutor Smith." Cliff replied.

"Of course it's possible, Reaper. So these are the infamous Potter twins. I've been wondering when they would show up on my shift. Good luck you two!"

Restitutor Smith ordered the Harzel- if you call me that I'll kill you -twins into the center of the chamber, where a series of carved runes was. The first rune Hazel recognized as Reditum, the rune for returning, and the second as Factum, the rune for passing.

The pair were ordered to stand on two seperate runes, each a sub-rune of Reditum.

With a single double tap of the foot on the base of the rune and a trickle of magic, they returned to the Living Realm.

* * *

Hazel found herself staring at the immense and dark figure standing in the doorway.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..." Said the figure Hazel and Harry knew to be Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hagrid strode to where Dudley was cowering on the couch. "Budge over, yeh great lump."

He turned to look at Harry and I. "An' here's Harry and Hazel! Why when I last saw you two, you were no older than fif'een months!"

He reached into his massive travelers cloak to pull out an immense package. "Uh, I got somethin' for ya. Here it is, might be a bi' squashed, but I reckon it'll still taste good."

Nervously (or perhaps not as he knew what it was), Harry accepted the package from the half-giant. "Thank you, Mr. Hagrid."

Hagrid laughed, a booming, loud laugh at the statement. "Mr. Hagrid, nah, jus' call me Hagrid."

"Okay..." Hazel trailed off. In Hagrid's delight, he hadn't even realized that neither she or Harry were supposed to know his name, but no one ever said Hagrid was suspicious of others, just that he didn't think a person (or monster) could do any wrong whatsoever. Yeah, those damn Blast Ended Screwts nearly killed both multiple times and his whole dragon obsession could have just as easily ended their lives (especially because of fourth year...), just saying they wanted to _play_ with the twins.

Harry opened the package and within was the birthday cake we had recieved seven years before (sort of, anyways. Hazel was not sure if it actually counted properly. Damn! All of this time-travel stuff was so confusing!)

"Don't eat anything he gives you, Dudley," Uncle Vernon warned.

"Shut up, Dursley you great prune! Yer son doesn't need no more fattenin' up!" Hagrid thundered loudly, pointing his pink umbrella at Dudley.

A bright pink, curly little tail sprouted from Dudley's rear end. Horrified screams echoed form each of the Dursleys' mouths at once.

Aunt Petunia started wailing about her Diddy Darling Duddykins while Uncle Vernon thundered, "I'll press charges for this!" and Dudley began to howl in pain.

Hazel threw her hands to her mouth as she watched the whole scene play out infront of her. To say avoiding laughter was easy would be a lie. To be perfectly honest, both Harry and Hazel wer forced to resort to biting their toungues so hard that a wash of salty blood filled the mouthes of both.

Disgusted, Hazel pulled her hands away from her mouth, turned green and spat out a glob of red blood. "Blah!"

Harry smiled sympathetically. Naturally, it was a slightly bloody smile, and the younger Potter twin looked as though he were a vampire and had recently sucked the blood of a poor, unsuspecting mortal. What a lovely thought. Well, no. Completely and utterly gross.

When there fit of cruel laughter was over, Hagrid smiled indulgently at them, before insisting that they both ate a slice of birthday cake, despite the early hour (it wasn't yet 12:30 A.M.).

After a small slice of rockhard cake for each twin, Hagrid gave them each a sleeping draught, having forgotten that neither twin should know anything about the wizarding world.

It was around eight when the draughts wore off, and by that time, both had amassed an extremely confused persona in their sleep. A confused and curious persona, that is.

"Hagrid," Harry asked over a breakfast of sausages, "Why are you here?"

The half-giant boomed with laughter. "I fergot 'ya didn' know! Yer a wizard Harry." The younger of the Harzel- if you call me that I'll kill you -twins dropped to the floor in a dead, fake faint, while Hazel drained the blood from her face with highly developed acting skills and began to stammer.

Hazel didn't react, just stared absently into the distance until a few minutes later when she yelped as the thought finally processed. "W-what!?" Her acting skills were extraordinarily good.

* * *

Something, Hagrid decided, was possitively strange about the Potter twins. The elder, Hazel, was the exact image of her mother at that age. But mentally, the petite girl couldn't be more different from her mother.

While Lily had been bright and outgoing, to-the-point and clever, young Hazel was quite different. She had a dreamy air to her, and a soft, whispering voice almost like the wind whistling through tree branches or the soft music of a wooden flute. It had taken a few minutes for the realization of what Hagrid had said to fully sink in, which, while wasn't surprising, was hardly normal.

Harry seemed far more mature than his father had been, almost too much so for Hagrid's tastes. His father had never missed a moment to play a prank, but Harry didn't look like he would play a prank if not doing so would kill him. Very different from his father indeed.

"And ye', Haze, are a witch," Hagrid whispered conspiratorilly.

"Oh dear," the girl replied brightly. "I do believe you've had to much to drink, Hagrid."


	3. Chapter 3: Do Not Call Me That

After a thouroughly exhausting shopping trip, the Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins were forced to spend another month with the Dursleys. It was the best month that their past-selves had ever had.

The awful and completely horrid Dursley's completely ignored them! And, instead of Harry sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs and Hazel in the cupboard where food should be kept (they got an extra (and moveable) cupboard for that purpose), they shared Dudley's second bedroom (the smallest one, but it was still an improvement).

It was the evening before September the first that the twins began planning how they would get to Kings Cross.

"We'll take the Knightbus," argued Harry.

"Apparate," insisted Hazel, very illogically.

"Aunt Petunia."

"No! Knightbus is better than that!"

"Then we'll take the Knightbus."

Hazel pouted. "Fine."

Considering the pair were actually seventeen or so, they argued like a pair of two-year-olds.

Having agreed on a possible mode of transportation, they drifted off to sleep in their seperate beds in the tiny room.

Pleasant dreams were rare for Hazel, so she was surprised when she woke up to chirping birds that she was feeling quite happy.

A soft 'hoo' of a cooing owl broke her thoughts.

The tiny Northern Pygmy Owl had a tawny feathered chest, with dark brown flight feathers and white tufts coming up from between her eyes.

Hazel had no idea what to name the adorable owl, but after a moment she decided.

"Chandra," she whispered softly, thinking of how her close friend, Luna Lovegood, had perished during the final battle. Her name meant 'moon', making a name that had something to do with the moon fitting, for the pygmy owl was to be named after Luna. Chandra meant 'of the moon'.

"Wha'?..." Harry mumbled awake.

"Chandra," his sister repeated in her whispery, musical voice. "The pygmy's name. Chandra. Or are you too tired to comprehend that as of now?"

The used-to-be seventeen year old jolted awake. "I like it. Hindi, right?"

Hazel nodded brightly, grinning at her twin.

Why the pair knew the etymology of random names, the word would never know. No, seriously, how did they know the etymology of random names, let alone some out of the ordinary name like Chandra?

The tawny owl hooted softly.

Hazel smiled gently at the owl she had just named for her best friend.

Then, the idea of returning to Hogwarts crashed down on the small eleven (sort of) year old. She almost screamed in delight at the idea of a smiling Professor Flitwick, cheering as someone accomplished a spell for the first time.

The blue and bronze Common Room with books piled high at each wall, with the riddle to enter the large, circular room. Honestly, Ravenclaw was the House of the smart, so why answer a riddle to get in? Anyone with half a brain cell could enter (which did not include her idiot uncle and cousin), which was about as illogical as it got.

She almost screamed with delight again at the thought of possibly being sorted into a different House, and making different friends.

Hazel had been a Ravenclaw in school, and Harry a Gryffindor, but they had remained very close even after years of quidditch rivalries. Harry had made seeker for his team, while Hazel had created quite a challenge for her twin.

Kings Cross was easy to get to considering the Knight Bus was picking up half the kids in the counrty.

Their tickets read 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters', which was not supposed to exist. In joint agreement, the twins put on the act of confused, acting as though they did not know where the platform was.

They still had an hour before the train left which left plently of time to 'find' the platform with 'help'.

It seemed they wouldn't be waiting long, as a tall boy, probably a third year, pushed a trolley by with a owl atop trunks.

The Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins made to follow him, recognizing his golden brown hair as that of Cedric Diggory.

Naturally, both twins were quite nervous about meeting someone whom they had watched die, but neither had really known Cedric, and both wanted to know what he was like, aside from being one to laugh at Draco Malfoy being turned into a ferret, which was a very interesting turn of events during their fourth year.

"Come on," Cedric's mother, EIlleen Diggory, said, bustling Cedric towards a sign for Platform Nne and Platform Ten. "We can't be late."

"Mum," Cedric groaned, narrowly avoiding having his hair flatenned by Mrs. Diggory, "we still have another hour before the train leaves.

"H-hello," Harry said in the quiet, slightly musical voice he posessed. The light lilt had come from spending some time in Greece, where he had picked up the accent to a certain extent.

Cedric jumped a literal two feet in the air as the narrator cackled, for the twins had followed him silently. It seemed as though they appeared out of thin air as the narrator is rather fond of doing, just to scare the bajebees out of her friends.

"Sorry," Hazel volunteered with an apologetic smile at the tall brunette. "My brother is not one for words, but he does like scaring people. Strange, how his mind works."

* * *

The one thought raging through Cedric's mind was 'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!', for a small, black-haired kid had said 'hello', and while that didn't make any sense, it did when said kid had snuck up on him.

Regaining his lost composure, Cedric smiled at the red-head who had called the black-haired boy her brother, even if their was no resemblance.

"Hello, I'm Cedric Diggory, I assume you're looking for the Platform?" Cedric had spotted the tiny Pygmy Owl perched on her shoulder.

"Pleased to meet you, Cedric. I'm Hazel Potter, and this is my brother, Harry. And yes, we were looking for the Platform. Could you show it to us?"

Cedric's eyes instinctively flickered to Hazel's collarbone, and saw the faint crescent shape peaking out from beneath her ice blue tanktop.

On Harry's forehead was the telltale lightning scar, though it was mostly covered by his wavy locks of black hair.

The two couldn't look more different.

"I bet you'll love the entrance, come along, Harzel-"

"Don't ever call us that," interupted Harry. "We do _not_ have a couple name."

There was a deadly edge to his voice that made Cedric freeze. "Sure thing, Harry. Come along firsties!"

Cedric led them to the entrance and explained quickly. "Just run through this wall, and you'll come out at the Platform."

Hazel's sceptical face betrayed her thoughts.

"Don't worry about it, Hazel. I bet you think that I'm just pulling your strings. Mum'll show you, just watch." Eilleen nodded quietly, watching her son guide the nervous twins. What a gentleman!

She strode through the barrier with even, calm steps.

Hazel watched in fascination as Cedric's mother walked through the barrier. Before she knew it, Cedric was pushing her to the barrier gently, and she walked through expecting the worst.

A smile blossomed on the thirteen, almost fourteen, year old's face as Hazel made her way through the barrier. Then Harry followed the red-head.

And soon Cedric followed.

The Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins were both smiling slightly. "Brilliant," Harry chirped brightly, not a trace of danger in his voice.

It was odd in Cedric's mind. They seemed to have a rather bad case of mood swings.

"I'll help you get your bags on the train, Firsties. Then I'll leave you two to go your seperate ways, if you wish."

An exchanged, emotionless glance betrayed nothing of the twin's thoughts, but it was obvious they were both very attuned with the other's emotions.

* * *

Hazel smiled slightly. "Thank you, Cedric, but you really don't have to help-"

"I want to," he interupted insistently. "I'm in Hufflepuff. Nothing makes me happier than helping someone."

Hesitantly, Harry nodded, not saying a single word, as per usual. Harry didn't speak much to those he didn't know well. Unfortunately, neither twin had ever gotten to know Cedric all that well. To them, he was just another person they had let down and were back to save.

"Thank you," Harry said suddenly, eyes flickering up to meet Cedric's before darting away again.

Even that tiny bit of eye-contact was a sign of trust. Years of betrayal from closest friends to respected teachers had caused Harry to lose faith in the idea of trust.

If you gained his trust, Harry would be forever loyal to you, but if you ever broke that trust, may the heavens help you.

Ronald Weasley had betrayed them to Dumbledore, who kept them alive to kill at the right time. Weasley had spied on them for years, and in the end had found himself hanging from a tree by his ankles for the centaurs to target practice with their arrows.

Professor Moody had been Barty Crouch Junior. 'Nuf said.

Hazel smiled slightly at Cedric. "Your not half bad, Cedric. This one," she wacked her brother upside the head, "seems to trust you, which, I'll have you know, is a big compliment. Harry doesn't trust easily."

The small red-head wasn't sure what the much teen would make of such things, but he covered his surprise well and smiled. "Come on, now. We should get your things on the train.


	4. Chapter 4: Nothing At All

"That was different," Harry murmured softly. He never spoke loudly; it was both a curse and a gift. A curse, because he was mostly overlooked for his silence, and a gift because he was so damn good at sneaking around.

"Yeah," Hazel agreed. "We never knew Cedric, but he seems as nice as everyone says." While Hazel didn't speak loudly very often, she did have the ability to speak loudly and gain others attention.

They lapsed into a peaceful silence that was just a little too loud for it to last.

"Hello," said a voice they both knew all to well. "Would'ya mind if I sat here? Everywhere else is full."

Hazel turnd her head towards the much hated face of one Ronald King-of-the-World Billius Weasley, or just plain Weasley. Ron if you were friends with him, and if there were three people the twins hated, number one was Dumbles, number two Weasley, and third Granger. All betrayed them when they were most needed and most wanted.

Hazel, who had her eyes closed to block out memories, spoke. "You need to learn the importance of a good excuse, Mr-?"

Her words were polite, but tone not so much.

"Ehm-, Ron Weasley, you may just call me Ron," the irritating red-head replied. Hazel was disgusted she had anything in common with the freckle-faced word-author-shall-not-write.

"Well Mr. Weasley, I find it highly unlikely that everywhere else is full. However, I find it highly likely that you have siblings whom you can sit with. My brother does not appreciate people invading our space, and if he prefers not to socialize, then I will avoid contact with outsiders for him."

Hazel's reply was curt and calm, making it perfectly clear that Weasley was not wanted in that compartment.

Red rampaged up the youngest Weasley's face, but he did not move. "I must have made a mistake. You can't be Hazel Potter, you are far too rude, and he," Weasley gestured at Harry, forgetting that Hazel's eyes were closed, "can't be Harry Potter, he is far too quiet. Everyone knows that the Boy-Who-Lived is a total prankster."

Eyes snapping open, Hazel glared at Weasley. Instead of her nostrils flaring like most people's did, they did the opposite, becoming slits. "I will have you know, Weasley, I am Sage Evans, and this is my brother, James Evans. If you have mistaken us, you hade best be leaving this compartment and leaving us in peace."

The idiot shrank back but still glared vindictively.

* * *

How dare they! The youngest Weasley fumed.

No one even bothered to try and kick Ron Weasley, spy to the great Dumbledore from their compartment! It simply was not done.

But then again, it really didn't matter. They were just mudbloods in Ron's mind. There was no wizarding family with a plain name like Evans. They were the ones with the interesting names like Weasley. In Ron's opinion, his name was the best of them all.

But Ron could not be seen as weak, so he glared at SEvans.

"No, I quite like it here; I think I'll stay. It'll be you that has to leave." Ron plopped down on a seat next to SEvans. "Hey, cutie," Ron changed plan of action. Sage Evans was, in Ron's mind, quite a pretty girl. It didn't matter that they weren't even twelve yet, just that she had intoxicating eyes.

But, of course, the idiot's plan backfired.

JEvans whirled to glare at Ron, but it was JEvans who spoke. "Don't, ever, call my twin that."

The downright dangerous tone that JEvans used cause Ron to freeze. But he 'regained' his composure and smiled casually at the emo seeming boy.

"Sure," he said weakly, shifting away from SEvans. While the red-head was most definedly hot in the mind of one Ron Wasley, JEvans was not one to be messed with; Ron was sure of it.

* * *

Weasley was cowering. Hazel was sure of it. Normally when Harry spoke, it was because something had annoyed him, and very ocasionally because he truly, sincerely liked someone. In Weasley's case, he receaved the death glare, which, in all honesty, was quite scary.

Hazel cast a worried glance at her brother, and found his face stoicly set in stone. A tiny smile reached across her face.

"Leave," Harry continued coldly. "And do not come back."

Fear leapt into Weasley's blue eyes and he immediately stood, leaving.

"Thank Freyja," Harry murmured, voice returned to its usual, quiet cadence. How in the name of Merlin's shaggy, grey beard had he even remembered that Freyja didn't care how her name was used, let alone how to spell it?

Oh well, just another thing the world would never know as the narrator didn't feel like using her brain at that current moment in time. Oh well.

"Agreed," Hazel responded in her flute-like voice.

There was a polite knock on the door. "Can I please sit here?"

Hazel looked up to see a very shy looking Neville Longbottom standing in the doorway. "Sure thing! I have to warn you, though, my twin here is scary. I'm Hazel Potter, by the way, and this is my twin, Harry."

"Hello," Neville replied shyly. "I'm Neville Longbottom." His eyes flickered down to the ground, before darting to look around the compartment.

Hazel had forgotten how shy and belittled Neville had been as a first year, and, judging my the bemused look in his eyes, so had Harry. "Come on in, sidown," Hazel grinned at the shy first year who managed a weak grin back.

"What how do you think you'll be in?" Neville asked conversationally.

Hazel considered. "I really have no idea, but everyone thinks I'll be a Gryffindor. I myself am kind of thinking Hufflepuff. How 'bout you, Ry?"

Harry considered for a moment. "I like a surprise," he decided mysteriously. Hazel hid a snort behing a cough.

"I think that I'll be in Hufflepuff." By that point Hazel was quite confused. Was this really the boy who had chopped off Nagini's head with the sword of Gryffindor? Whoa...

She studied the slightly pudgy eleven year old. "I don't know about that, Neville. I think you have hidden bravery that no one else sees."

Neville perked up slightly. "You really think so?"

Harry nodded along with Hazel. "Yes," he said softly. "We really think so."

That was one of the twins weird perks. Each had a vague idea of the others thoughts when they wanted to, and the connection grew stronger if they wished it. They could - finish eachothers - sentences.

Neville took note of Harry's strange wording, but didn't comment. That took the younger Potter twin by surprise. Hazel was accustomed to people commenting on each and every strange thing about the twins that they didn't expect. For instance, they were both very small, not what one would expect from the Twins-Who-Lived. They were expected to be tall and imposing figures who swooped down from the sky and saved the townsfolk from trolls.

It simply was so unrealistic the narrator began to gag at the very thought then fell to the ground dead. Oh well.

They lapsed into a heavy silence, none knowing what to say. Except for Neville, who seemed to have inherited the pureblood social graces, unlike the Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins complete lack thereof.

"Do you guys like to fly? I heard your dad, Captain Potter, was a good chaser."

The silent glance between the Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins was generally unnerving for ousiders, but Neville didn't seem to mind.

"No," Hazel said finally. "The closest we've been to the sky was the roof of our school, which really wasn't very high. Uncle V wasn't very happy about that."

"Understatement," mumbled Harry, fiddling with the hem of his too-large shirt, a grimace becoming clear on his face for an instant before his expression was schooled to the completely calm, uncaring mask he often wore.

His mask wasn't repainted quick enough for Neville the ever observant to notice.

"What do you mean? And are you alright, Harry?"

"Nothing," Hazel said, the tones bouncing ominously off the walls. "Nothing at all."


	5. Chapter 5: Ensamada Say Wha-!

The sorting had begun with ever-kind and gentle Hannah Abbot, who became a Hufflepuff. Followed was Susan Bones, also a Hufflepuff. Terry Boot the Ravenclaw was followed by Lavender Brown to Gryffindor, who was followed by Mandy Brocklehurst to Ravenclaw once again. Vincent Crabbe was a Slytherin, to no ones surprise, along with Millicent Bulstrode. Michael Corner and Stephen Cornfoot were in Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff and Gryffindor began to become annoyed by the lack of students to their houses.

Another Slytherin, Tracy Davis, was sorted, followed by Anthony Goldstein to Ravenclaw once again. An nervous and mental looking Hermione Granger (whom Hazel hated) became the second Gryffindor, while Hufflepuff had yet to clame another student. Needless to say, they were growing ever more annoyed. Gregory Goyle became a Slyertherin.

They were placated by Wayne Hopkins sorting into their house. Quickly following Hopkins was Megan Jones. The Hufflepuff's seemed content with their new first years, while the others houses waited in anticipation for their next first year. Sue Li assured the Ravenclaws they had more students coming yet. The snakes were becoming antsy.

The Gryffinors roared like lions for Neville, who ran off with the hat still on his head. Morag McDougal went to Slytherin followed by Ernie Macmillan to Hufflepuff. The ever-loyal badgers cheered. Roger Malone followed the brunette to Hufflepuff. Gryffindor wanted more students desperately.

Lily Moon was another Hufflepuff, causing the Gryffindors to growl. Theodore Nott, who was actually quite nice, became a Slytherin, and considering his father, it was not surprising. The Patil twins, Padma (Ravenclaw) and Parvati (Gryffindor), were sorted, much to the lion's delight.

* * *

"Potter, Harry," McGonogall called, and Harry, looking smaller than ever before, stepped forward nervously but silently to the Sorting Hat.

'Hello.' The hat did not surprise Harry as it did to most; he had been sorted before.

'Have I sorted you before? Oh, yes indeed I have. I still think you would do well in the snake's den, but perhaps the pain it will cause you is not worth it. You are smart, I can feel it, very smart. But... No. Not quite right. I know, Gryffindor!'

The last word was shouted and the Gryffindor table exploded with cheers, having expected Harry at their table the whole time.

* * *

"Potter, Hazel," McGonogall requested and the emerald-eyed girl walked forward, her shoes not making a single sound as they pattered along the floor.

'Hello, Hazel. You are so much like your brother, and oh, what's this? You have a connection with him. You could here me as I sorted him, how brilliant! I bet he can here me right now, as well! Now, onto more pressing matters. Where to put you? I see four different avenues, yet the lions and the snakes would back out, seeing more of the eagles and the badgers in you. You would sooner die yourself then allow a friend to die. Hufflepuff!'

The last word was shouted, and after a moment of stunned silence, cheers ripped through the Great Hall while the Gryffindors pouted, Slytherins laughed, Ravenclaws looked confused and Hufflepuffs just glad to have a new kid in their house.

Harry was on his feet cheering for Hazel as she slipped silently to the shrieking table.

Gabriel Tate, the prefect and Head Boy, welcomed her to the table with a smile and warm shake of the hand.

After that, the Sorting continued calmly, with the end of result of Hazel, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins, Megan Jones, Ernie Macmillan, Lily Moon, Sally-Anne Perks, Oliver Rivers, and Zacharias Smith being Hufflepuffs.

Slytherin recieved Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise Zabine, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millecent Bulstrode, Tracy Davis, and Morag McDougal.

To Ravenclaw were Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin, Alvara Runcorn, Kevin Entwhistle, Stephen Cornfoot, Sally Smith, and Sue Li.

Gryffindor had Harry, Neville, Weasley, Granger, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, Maeva Rowan, and Sophie Roper.

The narrator then collapsed from Too-Many-HP-Characters Syndrome. And then had to go to school so stopped writing this for the time being.

During said narrator's lunch break, plot bunnies hit hard!

The Hufflepuffs were nice, Hazel decided after only a few minutes after the Sorting ended.

Hannah was just quiet and gentle, while her best friend, Susan, was chatty and seemed the quinessential Gryffindor. Justin was very jumpy, but not in a Neville-esque way. Wayne was studious and calm, until the sugar-highs hit. Megan was the quinessential Hufflepuff in every way. Ernie was very like Justin, except not as jumpy, just suspicious of others. Lily was very like Hazel's mother, right down to the wavy red hair. Lily could have been Hazel's twin. Sally-Anne ("Just Sally," she insisted.) seemed quiet and calm. Oliver was energetic, grinning and mischevious. Smith was as unloyal as one got, and if their was one thing Hazel hated, it was the disloyal. But, of course, Smith was still very nice.

She shook her long mane of hair out of the braid she had kept it in until then.

Cedric, sitting not far away from Hazel, was laughing and smiling, something Hazel was not accustomed to. In her mind, Cedric was associated with the worst things. Death, pain, anger, fear. So many things related to Cedric, all of them bad. No, happiness was not among those many things, but maybe, just maybe, Hazel coudl fix that in her mind.

"Hey," Oliver, who was sitting next to her, said, giving Hazel a gentle nudge that shook her from her dark thoughts. "You okay, Ms. Potter?"

"Yep, but thanks for asking, Mr. River. Seriously, though. Call me Hazel. Only my aunt calls me Potter."

Oliver, who was apparently muggleborn. No one else would have caught the reference to the narrator's brother's favourite movie, Pacific Rim.

"Oliver then, Hazel."

Hazel grinned as she continued to chat with her new housemates, getting to know them better than she had in the previous timeline.

Timelines were finicky could splinch, only worse, as your nose might be left in the past or future. That could not be fun. The Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins were lucky that the Death Ministries had been the ones to send them back. Otherwise it was entirely possible that they would simply be reliving their years at Hogwarts, conscious but unable to do anything. The results were endless and all unwanted, save for the one they had.

By heading back, the two Potters had created a whole new timeline, leaving the precious one untouched.

"Hey," a hand brushed her shoulder gently, drawing Hazel from her thoughts. "You okay?"

Shee whirled instictively to see who it was. Standing there was Cedric, looking mildly concerned. "Yeah, I'm fine, but thanks for asking, Cedric."

The tall third year was looking very concerned, and also as though he wanted to get to know the new first years to maintain a connection to the younger years. "Your sure?"

When Hazel nodded, he continued. "Good, budge over. I want to meet the ickle firsties!"

Hazel shifted over, allowing Cedric to sit next to her. With bright grey eyes he surveyed the first years and grinned insanely. Justin and Ernie both looked terrified.

"So," he announced with that crazy grin on his face. "How was eveyone's summer?"

It was Susan, seeming the most outgoing of the first years, who answered. "It was good, thanks for asking, how was yours?"

Cedric beemed and his smile grew even crazier at the mention of his summer. "It was amazing!" He began going into detail about the epic broom he had gotten and his plans for trying out for the quidditch team as the new Chaser, because an old one had graduated the previous year.

Justin leaned in towards the other first years and whispered, "Sugar high," conspiratorilly, causing them all to giggle nervously. When a Hufflepuff had a sugar high, it could be a very dangerous thing. When the great Hufflepuff seventh year, Nymphadora Tonks had come down with a sugar high at the end of year feast the year previously. The results had been a pranking war that nearly destroyed two different Common Room sin the course of three hours. Detentions had been issued.

Cedric, still beeming, grinned insanely at the first years, all of whom shifted nervously. Yes, Hufflepuff's having sugar highs was a very dangerous thing indeed.

* * *

Harry had not spoken a single word. Okay, he had, but only barely. He had nodded politely to Percy Weasley who welcomed him to the table, dipped his head to his fellow Gryffindor first years in turn. He clapped when they recieved a new student, and by the end of dinner, when Harry had only had a small portion, with Weasley staring at him ridiculously, all the first years were staring at him.

The black haired used-to-be-seventeen year old shrank back shyly. Seeming to sene his fear, Percy Weasley spoke up.

"Okay, firsties. We do not stare at our fellow first years. If Mr. Potter does not feel like talking, then it is not out business to question why. Now back off."

First years mumbled varying excuses ranging from "Couldn't help it," to "He's Harry Potter," which Harry pointedly ignored, looking away.

When they all looked away, Percy rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's just fine if you don't want to talk, kiddo, but you should speak some time."

Harry allowed his gaze to slip away from Percy's; the tiny boy knew his action was suspicious, but he simply could not help it. Silence had practically been programmed into him. He spoke when he was annoyed and when around those he trusted. Yet his actions did make it seem like the Dursley's, err, _severely mistreated_ him. And neglected. While those were not pretty words, Harry had one on his mind that was definitely uglier. The narrator sends ensamadas to whomever can guess it.

Said narrator will give pannakoek to whomever can guess what an ensamada is, and a pandesoul to whoever knows what a pannakoek is. And brownie points for what a pandesoul is, even the narrator even spelled that correctly.


	6. Chapter 6: Dunderheads

It had quickly become apparent to the whole school that the Potter twins were a unit, and nothing could or would change that. Truthfully, the enntire of Hogwarts was wondering why they Harry wasn't a Hufflepuff. You see, the Hogwarts rumour mill was the most nutorius rumour mill in the entire world. Yes, _that_ rumouur mill.

The rumour mill, where if you tell your best friend a secret, the entire castle will know within three hours.

The twin's, being the Potter twins, rumours travelled twice as fast as normal, and considering the whole school had already seen their quietness, it took about ten minutes for everyone to know. Probably less.

Hazel got on well with her new housemates, while Harry was constantly glaring at his, and spent all the time he could with his younger twin and her new friends, Oliver Rivers and Megan Jones, making them a trio, while Harry became known as the Lone Wolf, much to his chagrin.

It wasn't that Harry disliked people, no quite the contrary, Harry was rather fond of his close friedns and family, just not those who betrayed him, but he had difficulty connecting to the rash, loud Gryffindors, save for Dean Thomas, the only one who seemed to appreciate Harry's love of the arts, particularly the art of writing and the art of design, particularly architecture.

Dean wasn't half as quiet as Harry, though that was saying quite a lot, and meant that Dean was a younger, less prodigy-like, version of Cedric Diggory, who was quiet until the dreaded sugar high hit, leaving him laughing and grinning for hours. He was very nice, with dark skin and short-cut black hair.

It was a stark contrast to Harry's shaggy, black hair and porcelain pale skin. Dean seemed to understand that his new best friend liked the quiet and had some serious trust issues.

It was only September fourteenth when Hazel rubbed tiredness from her eyes, and began to dread the fast approaching All'Hallow's Eve. Or Halloween. The narrator doesn't care which one, so puts both.

It took Harry a few days longer, and by the time it was a month later, October fourteenth, their friends had begun to notice a notable change.

Hazel would rub her eyes constantly trying to rid herself of the dark bags beneath her eyes, while her hair was left cascading down her back without it's usual high ponytail or long braid.

Harry was constantly scowling, and it was a scary scowl. He didn't sleep well and was turning into an insomniac.

The professors all assumed that this was because of the approaching death of their parents, but it was bigger than they could imagine.

Lavender Brown, the first loss, September first. The only reason they were fine on that day was because they both had hated Lavender, yet still honoured her memory.

The death following Lavender's in the school year was Stephen Cornfoot on the fourth. Harry knew only his name, whiel Hazel had cried over her friends death that night.

Third on the tenth was Colin Creevey, which had hit Harry hard, while Hazel had found the boy annoying.

Dennis died but moments later, in his anger, having flung himself at the Death Eater responsible.

Then Lia Grey, the fourteenth of September, whom both had been friendly with, though not friends.

The death's added up until the worst came in October. The Chasing Trio killed on the thirty-first, then Fred, angered at the loss of his girlfriend had died, followed by George in a rage.

Their parents on the very same day. Luna as well, while Neville made it until the battle of Hogwarts, where he was killed by Nagini shortly after having killed the snake.

From November to June, no one had died, by some strange miracle. Perhaps the lack of battles accounted for it.

Either way, the long, agonizing days leading up to the thirty-first of October were not good for either twin.

And Snape's lessons did not help with their lack of enthusiasm towards the percentage of things.

Not included were flying lessons (Madam Hooch had written them both a pass for their brilliant flying, and both had made their teams as Seeker), charms and astronomy.

Hazel had heard the tales of how the ghosts of the past were the lights of the stars, and the brighter they glowed, the greater life they'd led. She truly beleaved she had friends in the stars, long since passed on.

Back to Snape's lessons.

He strode into the classroom silently, the doors to the dungeon closing behind him with a fierce slam.

Snape began with roll call.

He paused at Harry's name, whispering "Ah, Potter, our new celebrity," before continuing.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word

—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as usually have to teach."

Hazel would have made a point not to take notes.

Harry had forgotten that particular instance and took notes.

"Potter," Snape swooped in like a dungeon bat. "What would I get if I were to add the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry shrank back before answering in his scarcely-a-whisper musical voice. "Draught of living death, sir."

"I see, Potter. Now tell me, where would I find a bezoar?"

"Stomach of a goat, sir."

Snape continued oto another question. "And what might be the difference between asphodel and monkshood?"

"There is no difference, sir."

Snape sneared before backing off from torturing the tiny Gryffindor, and decided to start them on their first potion.

Harry's potion had been brewedd flawlessly, and even Snape couldn't find a thing wrong with it.

The silver smoke curled up perfectly while the dark blue was right on.

Grudgingly, he awarded a single point to Gryffindor. Then took five for cheating on an assignment.

Harry simply ground his teeth, glaring darkly at the ground. To even think of defending himself was not in Harry's nature, something that made people think of him as a Hufflepuff.

"Detention! For ignoring a teacher!"

Emerald green eyes lowered themselves even farther to the ground, closing for a long breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. Death green glowed silently, not attracting any attention.

Snape growled softly, glaring at his archnemesis' son with hatred evident in his obsidian black eyes.

* * *

Hazel's first lesson went even worse than Harry's.

"Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I were to add the powdered root of ashphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"The only potion that uses those two ingredients in such a manner is the draught of living death. And Professor? If you wish to offer condolences to either myself or my brother, Victorian is not a good language for doing so. You regret Mum's death, yet are too ashamed to say so." Hazel had set her jaw firmly, glaring at the greasy-haired professor with hate evident in her eyes. It was the original first year all over again. Snape had gone against both Harry and Hazel in their seperate lessons, while most professors adored Hazel's quick thinking and excellent work, Harry's work being slightly more substandard.

Either way, it was their distinct and kind personalities that the professors went for most of all.

At eleven, Harry was a tiny boy with a huge heart. He didn't care about what blood another was, just if they were kind or cruel. Harry had been the one who was willing to ask for help when he needed it, leaving all pride behind, knowing he needed to pull up his marks and needed help for it. Several Gryff's had complained that Harry needed to be resorted into Hufflepuff because of this. Others argued Ravenclaw because that was the house of his sister.

"Detention!" Barked the idiot. "And twenty points from Hufflepuff for back talk."

Oh well, Hazel shrugged. She could earn the points back with excellent homework and intense knowledge of the subjects.

"Continuing before Potter here so rudely insulted me, where would I find a beazor?"

"The stomach of a goat, sir, but we aren't supposed to learn that until the end of this year. Why are you asking questions we are not supposed to be able to answer."

"One point taken for cheek, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"With all do respect, sir, there is no difference between monkshood and wolfsbane. If you wish to know how much I know about herbology, you really shoul consult my head of house outside of class. Now if you will excuse me sir, I believe it is time we got down to brewing."

* * *

Snape ground his teeth together in frustration. How could Lily's daughter look so like her, yet act so differently.

Reaching out with his mind, Snape brushed the top surface of the Potter girl's mind, only to find a winding, leaf strewn path leading towards a fortified castle. Potter#2 was a occlumens, which should have been impossible.

"If I might be so bold as to ask why you feel necessary to read my mind, why do you feel it necessary, because it is illegal."

Snape was thrown from the winding path. "Detention!" He barked again. "For lying and accusing a teacher!"

Pottter#2 glared at him hatefully, and something flickered in her eyes, but she covered it quickly. It was... Sadness? Decidedly weird.

But Snape didn't let it effect him. So what if a student was upset? The dark red hair was so like Lily's it hurt, and Snape had already decided that any child of James Charlus Potter was bad news, very bad news.

And Potter#2 screamed of it.

She was an insolent, crude, spoilt brat, one who had the nerve to end up in Hufflepuff, of all the houses!

But Snape's reasonable side argued back. Potter#2 seemed very brave and smart. No ordinary first year could answer the level of questions she had.

One more question, he decided. "Describe veritaserum."

* * *

Veritaserum. Hazel had to resist the urge to burst out into laughter. Veritaserum...

"Veritaserum is a truth potion so powerful it is impossible to die while under the influence of it. It is clear, tastless, odorless, and essentially indestinguishable from water, and is commonly used in trials. It is an extremely difficult potion to create, and is carefully regulated by the Ministry." Hazel set her jaw, daring the greasy haired professor to give her another detention.

A faint, quirky smile settled itself on Snape's face. "Here's to hoping you aren't as big a group of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."


	7. Chapter 7: Rivers

Oliver Rivers was very, very worried. His new best friend, Hazel, had practically stopped eating.

It was October 30th, and dark bags had etched themselves around the red-head's eyes, almost like an ugly eyeliner would.

And worse yet, Hazel, a girl whom the professors considered a prodigy in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Flying, Astronomy, Potions (not Snape), and Herbology, was _sleeping in_ (Hazel seemed to be an insomniac, sleeping for only an hour or two each night) while missing her favourite class, Charms.

What the bloody hell.

According to Megan Jones, the last member of their trio, Hazel hadn't even come back to the dorms that night, disappearing after dinner.

Cedric Diggory, surrogate older brother to the trio, had assured them that Hazel probably needed time to herself to mourn the parents the girl had never known.

Flitwick looked up from the rollcall. "Where is Ms. Potter?"

A murmur ran through the group as everyone glanced around, but it was very obvious there were only two red-heads in the room, Susan Bones and Lily Moon.

Megan piped up quietly, "She didn't return to the Common Room last night, but the prefects let it slide since they thought she needed time to mourn her parents."

Flitwick frowned in worry and irritation. Did Professor Sprout know one of her students had disappeared? "What of her brother?"

More glances were exchanged by the group, before Lavender Brown giggled and answered. "He came back last night, but no one saw him come down. We thought he had just left early."

Flitwick groaned in annoyance. "Very well. Keep an eye out for both of them, and if they aren't at your next lesson, inform the professor."

He continued the class.

Oliver continued to worry.

And when Hazel didn't show up at Defense, he informed the useless professor who insisted that Hazel must have just skipped class.

So Oliver left along with Megan, with Quirrel's permission, to look for Hazel.

Of all the places the two friends had expected to find Hazel, hiding in a broom cupboard with her brother next to her was not among them.

Harry sat slunched over, eyes dark with a storm of emotions. Anger, pain, sorrow, hatred, and others Oliver couldn't identify.

Hazel was gently moving her thumb up and down her brother's back in soothing motions. Her hair was tangled and eyes just filled with sorrow.

But it was amusing when she jumped a literal two feet in the air at the sound of the cupboard door opening.

Her eyes were slightly panicked when she looked up, but she relaxed, seeing that it was Oliver and Megan.

"Hey, guys," her voice was much quieter than normal, subdued and upset.

Harry looked up at the pair, not saying a thing, which was normal for him, but the usual face of not caring was gone from his face. His sister ran her thumb down his back again, and the gesture caused him to relax, each feature on his face softening, if only for a second.

"Hazel!" Megan squeaked at her, looking very concerned. She crushed the red-head in a bone-crushing hug. "You had us all so worried!"

Hazel accepted the hug with a one-armed return; she seemed composed considering that it was nearly the anniversary of her parents death. Yet her twin was as uncomposed as could be, which was saying something, as composed was Harry's middle name. Well, actually it was James, but the narrator decrees that beyond the point.

"We're sorry we worried you, Meg, we just needed some time to... think." Hazel's eyes turned misty as she gazed off into nothingness, adopting a look of total peace.

Harry nodded in quiet agreement, not seeming to trust himself to speak.

"Come one," Oliver soothed softly, a hand brushing Hazel's arm. "We should get back to class, now."

His warm brown eyes were filled with sorrow as his friend shook her head. "No, neither of us have it in us to learn right now. Besides, Potions is next block, no? The chances of Harry or I surviving that class without a total breakdown is very slim. I'll make sure that we both grab dreamless sleeps from Madame Pomfrey, and I swear I will be back tonight, and for dinner. I cannot promise to eat anything, but I will try. I don't want Cedric forcefeeding me again, the same going for this dolt here-" she swatted Harry's head, who flinched at the gesture "-with Oliver Wood, the quidditch captain. Gods, at least in Hufflepuff Derrick Watson doesn't try to kill us!"

So Oliver and Megan left the broom cupboard to allow the Harzel- call us that and we'll kill you -twins time to think in peace, but neither was sure if they would be back for dinner.

That night, Hazel turned up, face completely emotionless in an effort not to show how shaken up she was, which worked badly, as she was never emotionless.

It took a lot of convincing from her surrogate older brother to convince her to eat. But slowly the third year cajoled a small meal of mashed potatoes and gravy into the tiny red-head.

Afterwards, Cedric gently guided the ever-more distraught girl back to their Common Room, where Oliver offered her the days homework, which Hazel promptly accepted and began to work on immediately, promising to hand in the homework due that day in after Hallooween passed.

The whole Common Room seemed to notice one of their own's distress and did their best to cheer up the forlorn girl, even managing to extract a grin and short giggle before she sombered up again.

At around eight she retired for the night, leaving her friends staring after her, until Megan jumped up. "What about the dreamless sleep? Doesn't she need to grab one?"

Oliver nodded, while Megan rushed after the tiny red-head.

She returned with a bleary-eyed version of their friend, one who seemed not to have sleapt for weeks, which, for all they knew, could be true.

It was agreed that Megan would go with Hazel for the potion, if only to insure that the girl did get the potion.

Oliver sighed gently as he watched the subdued pair walk away. Cedric rested a hand on his shoulder gently.

"Hey Iver, you okay?"

"Yeah," came the quiet response, "just thinking. Haze's been acting so strangely recently; it seems like she'll never recover."

"Hazel's strong, Iver. She'll make it through this, I'm sure she will." Cedric rubbed the distraught first years back. "I know it."

Oliver nodded absently, noting the use of the nickname only his family used. All others called him Ollie or Oliver. "But Ced, tomorrow is the aniversary. Will Hazel be alright? I mean, it must have really effected her if she acts this way the day before Halloween, so what will she be like on Halloween? I'm so worried about her."

Cedric hummed in quiet agreement as he continued to rub Oliver's back. "We'll be there for her, won't we?"

Slowly, the first year nodded, though he still looked nervous, like he was trying to convince himself. "Yeah, she'll be fine," Oliver tried to convince himself, but knew he had no chance of doing so.

The girls returned several minutes later, Hazel holding the small vial of dreamless sleep potion, before heading back to the dorms, glugging the potion, and pausing out in her bed.

Megan returned, looking concerned for her friend. "What if she never gets better?" She whispered.

Cedric gave her a stern look, and Gabriel Tate, the prefect, came over. "Don't even think that, Megan. She'll be fine by November."

But Oliver wasn't so sure.


	8. Chapter 8: The Day Her Parents Died

Loyality was the thing that every Hufflepuff valued to the utmost. The narrator would like to inform you that loyality is indeed a word, one that a classmate of the narrators accidentally onpurposely made up.

So when it did reach the thirty-first of October, the day that seemed most hated for Hazel Sage Potter, the whole of Hufflepuff tried to cheer her up with cheesy jokes, but the red-head hardly took notice, just pacing back and forth in one of the many corridors of the Hufflepuff Common Room, which was essentially a badger sett only bigger.

That morning, Hazel had woken early, very early, yearning for more homework and the next day. But Hazel had completed her homework the previous night, amazing her friends with her work-ethic. "What?" Hazel had asked. "It's only three essays." Her totally innocent tone and blinking, green eyes had caused anyone who had heard to crack up. Even when half-mad from grief, Hazel had one of the best senses of deadpan humour in Hufflepuff.

It didn't take too much pacing before Hazel began to walk faster and faster, like she could walk the day away, and then it would be over.

At Hogwarts, there weren't any classes on Halloween, so no one needed to worry about the red-head missing class.

After breakfast, Megan had brought some toast for Hazel, but the younger Potter twin just continued to pace, seeming to have dropped into her own world.

It was only at the Halloween Feast that night that Potter#2 stopped pacing. All day had been back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, in an endless cycle.

But while she sat, Olive and Megan next to her, she only picked at the plate that Gabriel, the prefect, had given her.

In Hufflepuff, it was the prefect's duty to insure that every member of their house was well at all times, which meant that Gabriel would be willing to force food down Hazel's throat if it came to that. Or perhaps he would settle for nutrient potions. Either way, it was not something Hazel wanted to experience any time soon.

The night of Luna's death, Harry had come to make sure that Hazel ate something. The result was a nutrient potion being force-fed to the younger Potter twin, Hazel Sage Potter, who had no desire to be force-fed again, and hence ate her chicken and mashed potatoes. Hufflepuffs could be _scary_ some times.

However, it seemed that her constant picking at the plat of food before her began to annoy her housemates, who were normally very patient.

"Enough. Either eat or have a nurtient potion from Madame Pomfrey. You choice." Cedric informed Hazel calmly, having watched her eat tiny bite after tiny bite for the past twenty minutes.

"Well..." Hazel drawled out the word, forcing a mask of calm and carefree happiness, "Madame Pomfrey will just-"

Just then the doors of the Great Hall burst open, and Hazel and Harry realized simulaenously just how dumb they were.

Their eyes locked from opposite sides of the Hall while Harry's lightning bolt scar and Hazel's half crescent scar burned at the pressence of the Dark Lord.

"Troll!" The idiotic professor wailed. "Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know!" He screeched before fainting _forwards_ in an obviously fake manner and total mayhem broke lose.

"Silence!" Dumbledore shouted. "Will prefects please lead their houses to their dormitories-" Before the idiotic headmaster could continued, Hazel burst out.

"What about the Slytherins! It's no secret you despise them, but that is no reason to send them into a troll's reach! And our Common Room is in that direction, too!"

Silence, pure silence, before soft applause broke out from one Harry James Potter. It was instinct for Harry never to speak on Halloween. Do not ask the narrator why, it just was.

Yet the soft smile and faint sparkle in his emereld eyes showed his thoughts.

"Besides," Hazel continued, having been given confidence by her brothers aproval. "Prefects, talented they may be, are no match for a full-grown troll." A soft bite of her lip betrayed that Hazel had either let something slip or was nervous. Most believed the latter. "And what if a student was not at the feast? Headcount, _Headmaster_!"

Stunned silence as an ever-quiet Harry smiled his approval.

It was Sprout who took charge as Dumbledore had fainted from shock at the mocking tones Hazel had allowed to slip into her voice.

"Alright, prefects. You House Head will escort you back to the Common Rooms while the other professors search for the troll. Ms. Potter, that will be a detention for disrespect of a teacher."

Hazel dipped her head, showing respect for the herbology professor while everyone stared at her in shock. They had expected more biting comebacks, not quiet submission. T'was the mystery of the should-be-seventeen year old. Hazel could confuse anyone. Literally anyone, from Dark Lords to Light Lords to the half-sister of the woman who owns the pub. A literal (_literal_) anyone.

Ten minutes later, each house was enjoying the feast with their own House, comfortable in their Common Rooms.

The Hufflepuff Common Room was a massive, underground, two-leveled room with a balcony overlooking the bottom floor from the top one. enchanted windows and a few real windows showed a brilliant view of the lake. A soft blanket of stars was seen through the windows, with them reflecting off the crystal clear lake.

The walls were done in uneven cobblestone, some rocks painted a warm, Hufflepuff golden yellow, and all with cushioning charms applied. draped across the walls were also tapsetries of the founders, nature and mainly, badgers.

The floor was a fuzzy gold carpet that carried the burgundy couches off the floor.

All around the room was different archways in the same stones, each one leading the the passageways that led all over the castle.

Hufflepuff was the only ones who could enter their Common Room from almost anywhere in the castle, just by showing certain paintings the badger mark inked onto their skin or pressing their right hand to special rocks all over the place. A badger would either enter the passageways or call a portal to the Common Room by tapping a rune.

Hazel was curled up on one of many couches next to a roaring fire with a soft smile adorning her features.

Her mood swings had started to confuse the whole of Hufflepuff, but they were used to the mood swings by then, and hence didn't question the happy girl.

The door to the Common Room banged open and a disgruntled looking Professor Sprout entered, hat askew.

"The troll has beeen dealt with, I'm afraid that a few idiot Gryffindors have nearly been killed because of their stupidity! Any student, no matter what year, who disobeys a direct order form a teacher given to protect them will find themselves expelled!"

'Oh,' Hazel thought. 'Of course. Weasley, Brown and McLaggen.' The three seemed to have formed a demented friendship, all going for geetting in trouble and really, really annoying the Harzel- call me that and I'll kill you -twins.

Nervous nods were given form across the room, along with a soft murmur of "Yes, Professor".

Then the digruntled professor left the room, leaving the Hufflepuffs to explode into chatter after she left.

Not Hazel though. Halloween, be it a glorius day in many ways, was still the day her parents died.


	9. Chapter 9: Flight of the Ferrit

Harry James Potter, heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, was seriously annoyed.

Why?

Because his scar burning at the presence of Professor Quirrelmort.

But back to Harry's heirships. The elder Potter twin didn't know how many houses he was heir to, but it was commonly believed that he was descended from Godric Gryffindor, but Lily Marie Evans smart enough to have been descended from Rowena Ravenclaw. Hazel was the definition of kindness and loyalty while Harry was as cunning as a guy got... Girls? They were known for their terrifying cunning. Okay, maybe not, but Harry has some serious abilities with cunning.

Each member of their family acted a differnt founder. What the bloody hell? Please take note of the narrators blank face as they write this.

Was it possible that inheritance could skip generations and siblings?

...

...

Harry decided that glaring blankly at the stuttering professor's irritating face was a good course of action to survive the very boring, very painful class.

He moaned in bodredom, pulling out a scrap of parchment and quill and inkwell.

He scribbled a message to Dean, who was sitting next to him. _Can we ditch next time?_

Dean was Harry's only friend in his house, and he was only acquaintances with his twin's friends, Oliver and Megan.

But what Harry really couldn't wait for was flying lessons.

The only time Harry had ever acted like a child was in the original timeline was when he was soaring atop a broom with the wind in his face and blinded by the sun in his eyes.

A full blown atack burrowed its way into Harry's head, only to be forced out with power akin to a bull charging into the attack.

Quirrelmort was left sprawled on the ground, staring in horror at the blazing emerald eyes.

"Whoa..." Sheamus whispered. "That's wicked..." Harry had no problem with Sheamus, but he was a little to talkative for Harry's liking.

Did you do that?

Dean asked by way of scrap parchment, a scary grin adorning his face.

Hurrying to grab his quill, Harry replied. _It's not my fault. He was trying to enter my mind._ He scrawled with a fake innocent expression that caused Dean to grin madly.

You're mad, absolutely, bloody mad!

Dean scribbled in response

Harry had never passed notes before, but it was a good way to communicate in a class where the teacher didn't pay attention.

Harry would never try passing notes in McGonogall or Snape or Flitwick's class, but in Defence that year, Quirrelmort payed not attention to the class, and hence Harry could pass notes.

Passing notes was not a practice that Harry was accustomed to, but it seemed to relax the tense atmosphere of a teacher being knocked unconscious by being forced out of a head.

Quirrellmort was finally rising to his feat, unsteady from the force of being charded by a bull.

"Dismissed!" He croaked out, face very, very pale and, suspiciously, without his normal stutter.

As Harry was walking down to the Dungeons for his nect block, Potions, he grinned at Dean who was walking next to him.

"Your not half bad Dean, actually quite above that." It was more than Harry had said since he had arrived at school. It seemed Harry only aswered professors and spoke to his sister.

Dean glanced at him curiously. "Does this mean you are going to start talking more, now?"

Harry grinned even brighter, an expression that one rarely saw on the quiet boy, and was honestly quite frightening with the brilliant emerald eyes and face-splitting smile, all surrounded by silky, black hair, dangling down over Harry's eyes. "Yep!"

It was a very scary expression for timid Neville Longbottom whom was walking next to Dean.

It must have had something to do with Harry's defeating Quirrelmort, because in an instant all the pressure that had been driving him insane had dissipated, leaving behind an eleven-year-old boy like any other.

But oh, just you wait for flying lessons.

And wait a wee bit more.

Just another lesson...

Finally!

Harry James Potter had a faint and relaxed smile adorning his face as Madame Hooch walked onto the pitch.

The percentage of firsties were watching Harry in horror at the fact that he was _smiling_ in a _relaxed_ manner _without_ his sister making jokes next to him.

Daphne Greengrass looked confused, Tracy Davis next to her horrified, Pansy Parkinson thouroughly annoyed, Millicent Bulstrode indifferent. Malfoy was glaring, Blaise Zabini indifferent, while Crabbe and Goyle just looked dumb and Theodore Nott had yet to even notice.

The Gryffindors, save for Neville and Dean, had given Harry a wide berth, and Harry was beginning to twitch with anticipation.

It was five minutes, several thousand twitches later that Madame Hooch finally made it to where the first years were lined up on their brooms and Harry was able to stop twitching.

"Good afternoon, class," Hooch said with a bright smile that reached her lightning-yellow eyes.

"Good afternoon, Madame Hooch!" The entire class said with grins on their faces. It seemed that flying was a very popular class at Hogwarts, though Harry didn't need to be told that twice. By the end of his first week in such lessons, he could do anything on a broom and they had begun to play games during class. When the course ended, everyone had been upset with a few acceptions. Granger had practically been crying she was so happy.

Now though, Granger looked quite excited at the prospect of flying.

"Now, I want everyone to stick their wand-hand over their broom and say 'up'!"

Harry did so eagerly and to his great delight but not surprise, the gnarled broom jumped right into his hands, while everyone elses simply twitched or hovered slightly off the ground.

Neville's hadn't even moved, while Dean's was floating a few inches off the ground.

A brilliant grin blossomed on Harry's smiling face.

Ten minutes later, everyone had brooms in their hands, and Madame Hooch called Neville up for a demonstration.

The Longbottom scion was trembling, with a look of pure and absolute panic adorning his features.

"M-must I?" His voice trembled, and Harry bit his lip, smile gone, replaced by concern.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, now get up here!" Snappishly called Hooch.

Edgy, Neville obeyed, his face having lost the colour it normall possessed.

Five terrible minutes, about 382 twitches later, Neville kicked off the ground just a little too hard, and flew almost straight up, as though he were a rocket blasting off from the ground.

"Neville!" Harry shouted, horrified as in an instant the eleven-year-old suddenly reversed, and totally out of control of his broom, went smashing against the wall of the castle. It was only the angle that saved Neville. Had the boy gone straight into the hard stone walls, there wouldn't have been much of a body to bury. Thankfully, Neville had gone in at a sharp angle, which probably only broke his arm or another bone, but no matter what bone he broke, Neville still came crashing to the ground, and probably broke another bone.

Hooch rushed over, and pulled Neville into a sitting position.

She clucked softly. "Broken wrist, come on, Longbottom. Let's get you to the hospital wing. If any of you move, I will have you expelled before you can say 'quidditch'."

As soon as she had gone, Malfoy ("The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy") plucked something out of the grass, and tossed it up.

Scarlet red flashed in the afternoon sun before fading to a misty white. "Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran got him! Perhaps I leave it somewhere for him to find. Like up a tree!"

Malfoy climbed onto his broom and began to glide upwards.

Anger flashed in Harry's eyes, and then he spoke. "Give it here, Malfoy."


	10. Chapter 10: Seeking that Chance

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry said softly, his voice silky and deadly soft, like the hesitant purr of a panther.

"Ooh, Potter can speak. Make me, Potty!"

There was no denying that Harry was excellent at scaring people. His gaze raised from the ground, eyes the exact shade of the avada kedavra, a glowing emerald green. "Don't worry. I will." Quiet confidence radiated from the Boy-Who-Lived.

Then Harry, too, mounted his broom, kicking off from the ground softly as Malfoy chucked the rememberall at the wall of the castle, very near to where Neville had collided with it.

Yet Harry was already in action. The wind howled in his ears as Harry sped towards where the rememberall was going to crash, and then-

He had caught it.

Cheers went up from the Gryffindors as Harry tossed the rememberall up slightly, and Malfoy came flying towards him, anger and humiliation burning on his face.

The doors to enter the castle flew open as McGonogall rushed out.

"Harry Potter-" she shouted. "Never in my time at Hogwarts! Follow me!"

While the Transfiguration professor seemed barking mad, Harry could feel waves of astonishment, horror, wonder and curiosity coming off him.

McGonogall led Harry through what must have been a hundred different corridors, before they were in the Charms corridor.

It was like what had happened the time previously. McGonogall had led Harry to the Charms corridor where the fifth year Gryffindors had classes with the Ravenclaw fifth years.

She opened the door to the room where Oliver Wood would be found.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, but may I borrow Wood?"

Said Gryffindor looked nervous at being called out of class randomly by his head of house, and a soft murmur of confusion passed by as Oliver closed the door behind him. 'No, Wood,' Harry corrected himself. He did not yet know the Scottish Keeper, not in that time, any ways.

"What is it, Professor?"

McGonogall's eyes lit up and a smile blossomed upon her face. " I have found you a seeker!"

Oliver's face then lit up in a grin as well. He began to circle the small first year, grinning insanely. A sharp poke to Harry's ribs caused him to hiss and swat the bulky captain's hand away in annoyance, only to have his hair ruffled by the kind fifth year.

McGonogall snorted with amusement at the son of two of her favourite students.

She may have worshipped Dumbledore, but she certainly did not approve of keeping the boy in the dark.

How could she? Harry was just a sweet, shy boy. Filled with talent and potential, yes, but Harry was certainly very sweet.

"He'll be brilliant on the pitch! Just the right build for seeker, and 'e also seems like the team player!" Oliver grinned maniacally. "Pleased to meet you, kid, I'm Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team." Shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically, Oliver looked delighted.

"Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Wood." As usual, Harry's voice was quiet, but held a unusual note of warmth among the usual grey notes.

"On the pitch at seven tonight, Mr. Potter. Mr. Wood here will teach you all you need to know about quidditch, and, knowing him, bucketloads more. Don't be late." Amusement lightened her eyes.

So it was that night at seven that Harry found himself out on the green pitch with the much taller Oliver Wood standing next to him, the team from the previous year already circling overhead, the chasers laughing as they flew laps around Fred and George, whom Harry had no problem with.

"Okay, Harry, how much do you know about quidditch?" Oliver was quite willing to be patient when it came to a seeker that McGonogall said was totally brilliant.

"Well, I know that there are seven players, one keeper, three chasers, two beeters, and a seeker. There are four balls. The snitch, which I have to catch, the quaffle, used to score goals, and bludgers, which try to kill you." Harry was grinning insanely at the thought of flying.

"Excellent, Harry!" Oliver cheered, and brought out a bag of golfballs. "It's too dark to let out the snitch, so we'll practice with golfballs.

So they did. Harry, youngest seeker in a century, caught each and everyone of them, and the whole team was ecstatic.

Angelina (Angie) was jumping up and down like a crazed maniac, while the twins were crazed, staring at her with love-struck eyes.

Alicia (Shay) had a grin on her face while she was loop-de-loop-ing madly, which Oliver seemed happy to see (Shay had taken almost two years to be able to do that).

Katie was just happy to have someone closer to her age (Katie was the youngest second year, while Angie and Shay were some of the oldest in third year) on the team.

When Fred and George snapped out of their daydreams, a euphora of irresistable happiness spread over the team.

They had a seeker.

Hufflepuff did not. Slytherin's was terrible (who hired Higgs?). Ravenclaw's was as pathetic as Slytherin's.

There was no way that they would be loosing the cup that year.

So that night the Gryffindors celebrated in their Common Room, making a racket over the fact that the flight prodigy known as Harry James Potter was their seeker.

Okay, maybe Harry was not ecstatic, but the team had been part of his family in the previous time line, and it seemed the same way this time.

At around ten, the prefects hussled first years (Harry included, despite his protests) and second years to bed, casting muffling charms on the doors.

To the students sent to bed, it seemed the party had ended, but it had not.

Harry got into a fearsome argument Weasley and Sheamus.

"Stupid attention seeking Potter," Weasley grumbled under his breath, and Sheamus nodding absently, not really paying attention.

Harry couldn't really hold not paying attention against the Irish first year, but he was snappish after a long day and an attention seeking brat who thought that Harry liked the attention that was so often directed his way.

Admittedly, his stunt with Malfoy did gain a lot of attention, but that was only because the second youngest Hogwarts student despised the blond ferret.

Oh, the days of Death Eaters turning studnets into ferrets were very good days indeed...

But that was not the point.

"For your information, _Weasel_, I only did that because I despise Malfoy and because _Neville_ is my friend." Carefullying placing emphasis on certain words, Harry showed that Weasley was in no place to insult Harry.

The very un-Hazel like red head flushed a new shade of magenta.

When Weasley responded with, "I outrank you, Potter," a soft tremble brushed over the dorms, and was certainly felt by those partying in the Common Room. But how the annoying Weasel thought he outranked _anyone _magical was beyong Harry.

"You, Weasley, outrank very few in the wizarding world. While House dictates many things, it is the traits of the person that go farther." Eyes as narrow as slits, Harry began to widdle away at Weasley. "The Weasley _clan_ is ranked about as low as a family can get. Muggle borns are positioned higher than Clans such as your own, with the quib population below yours."

The system made no sense, but it did give muggle borns a chance to become higher in society, rather than all of the power being among the ancient families.

For instance, if Dean worked at it, he could become head of a noble house, that would have a fair amount of power in wizenmagot.

However, because of Weasley's pre-given position, he could end up on wizenmagot, if all his older brothers died and he proved himself worthy, which would never happen.

Another tremble passed through Harry to the castle, at which point the sixth year male prefect, Arnold Johnsby, burst in, and was startled to see normally meek and quiet Harry with wand in hand, glaring ferociously at his dormmate, Ronald Billius Idius Weasley.

"Whoa," Johnsby said, stepping inbetween the two glaring boys. "What's happened?"

Weasley spoke first. "He," he spat the word like a curse, "thinks that a filthy mudblood outranks me!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Johnsby stated calmly, though an edge entered his voice. "For disgusting language! And a detention!"

And there the argument ended.


	11. Chapter 11: Z

The youngest child in Hogwarts had an interesting day, just like her brother, and it involved Zacharias Smith, the kind yet unloyal boy in Hufflepuff.

Zach was kind and gentle and protective of those he liked, but he was not loyal, nor did he like Hazel.

A rare argument broke out in the Common Room of Hufflepuff on the ever popular topic of flying lessons.

Zach wasn't a natural flier, but liked to believe he was. Hazel had seen pictures of him atop the childs broom he rode, but the posture and grip of the blond was completely off.

Of course, it involved Zach right in the middle, while Hazel tried to stay on the outside.

Blubbering in her head about pompous idiots, Hazel tried to eat breakfast, but found herself unable to get more than a small bowl of oatmeal down before the idea of being on a quidditch team overwhelmed her.

She brushed a soft lock of red hair behind her ear, noting with pleasure that over the past few months her hair had browned slightly, taking up a few hints of her brothers dark brown hair. They did not really look like twins, but if you saw them together, the way they acted was an easy indicator.

Oliver, sitting to her left, looked very nervous at the thought of flying. Oliver, or Iver as his friends sometimes called him, was a average height boy with platanium blond hair and pale blue eyes. He had a more angular face than most people, and if you didn't know him, Oliver could easily be mistaken as the evil leader of something. But really, Oliver was just an energetic, possibly ADHD, mischevious, nervous boy like any other. One that had turned twelve just that morning, where the rest of Hufflepuff threw him a party, ignoring the fact that he hadn't told anyone but the narrator when his birthday was.

November eigth.

Hazel had given her friend a kneazle, as she knew her friend loved animals, including Mrs. Norris. The blond haired boy did not have a pet, as he hadn't known that having an owl was useful, Oliver being muggleborn. Even if Oliver didn't know owls were awesome, he wasn't very sure about flying pets, hence the kneazel kitten that Hazel had asked Cedric to grab in Hogsmeade the previous weekend. It had all worked surprisingly well, considering that getting someone a pet at boarding school was highly illogical.

Megan, the brunnette girl with chocolate brown eyes, had given Oliver a set of quills, inkwells, parchment and other objects of the sort. It was a desperate and possibly futile attempt to convince Oliver to use his gift with words more often.

But sadly, Zach was all for ruinning the fun.

The brunnette had decided that ruinning someone's birthday with self absorbed talk would be great fun indeed.

So all through breakfast, Zach was chatting away happily to anyone within earshot about how amazing he was at flying. Dodging helicoptors and hang-gliders, when Hazel finally butted in.

"What _is_ a helicoptor, Zach?"

To which Zach sneered. "Well, _you_ should know that much, _Potter_."

"Precisely my point. By avoiding my question, you have indirectly shown that you have no idea what the heck a helicoptor is. So shut up and allow Oliver to have the spotlight on his birthday." Hazel gave Zach her amazing 'I'm gonna kill you' stare, that caused the brunnette to flinch, at which point Gabriel Tate broke in.

"Okay, okay, kidlets, enough with the argument. Hazel, we all know you have a wicked glare, Zach, we all know you are excellent on a broom, but both of you, please, no more arguing. We are Hufflepuff, no arguments, young'uns. You'll understand after the first quidditch match. We are a family. We may bicker over silly things, but we never argue." Gabe then considered his words again.

"Well, we don't _really _argue, just bicker. No, we don't argue, we argue with the intent to tease and annoy. Ehm-"

But Hazel cut the prefect off before he could stutter about whether the 'Puffs argued or not. "It's fine, we get it, Gabriel," she said, rolling her eyes with a smile.

Gabe didn't bite for the calm behaviour, and gave them both stern looks before placing another bite of his porridge, continuing to watch them teasingly through almond shaped, brown eyes.

Classes passed normally, though their was a lot of shouting in Quirrel's class, and loud breathing in Snape's (such events led to Hazel having a week of detention for breathing slightly louder than Malfoy).

Hazel's potion was perfect, despite Malfoy's consistently trying to foil it, just ending up foiling his own, yet still receiving full marks for it, while Hazel's received a zero for cheeting.

Snivellus Snapeta Snape did not deem a mere Hufflepuff worthy of a good mark. Only Sprout, Flitwick and Hooch did.

The anticipation built within Hazel like a balloon filling with air, about to burst.

By their last block, no one could sit still, whether from nerves or excitement.

Flitwick was laughing as he bustled the first years off to Flying, some needing no encouragment, others needing to be hustled along by the classmates.

Hazel was practically bouncing (it seemed that being eleven again gave her way more energy, as though her seventeen year old self was on a sugar high and had found out that they _had_ killed Voldemort. Of course, if she were to be told that Luna or the others who had died were suddenly and magically (impossible, Hazel knew) were still alive) as she waited for the flight teacher to arrive.

By the time that she did arrive, Hazel's heart had climbed up to her throat in a uncomfortable position from the intense excitement that was radiating in the air.

Oliver was pacing while Hazel watched calmly and Megan watched slightly nervously.

Hooch strode calmly and slowly out onto the field, though she looked slightly shaken.

"Everyone stand on the left of a broom now, hurry up! Now, put your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!' strongly."

Hazel obeyed, stating 'Up!' forcefully, imbuing her will upon the wooden instrument.

It flew to her hand before anyone else had even spoke.

Five minutes later, everyone had brooms in their hands, and Madame Hooch gave the orders to mount and kick off.

Hazel kicked off hard.


	12. Chapter 12: Harry

Oh, flight, glorius flight.

The wind ruffled Hazel's already tousled locks as she whooped with delight. She loved the air.

The sounds of her classmates and Madame Hooch became irrelevant as she began to soar upwards, wind at her face, giving a soft carress.

Soon, other students too were becoming less hesitant in the air, and began to slowly follow Hazel upwards, but she was already darting around, and had started a game of aerial tag.

The change of places was rapid and fun, with Hooch watching them with an expression of relief, for they had heard that the past lesson had been more... Exciting, to put it daintily.

Neville Longbottom had broken his wrist, Draco Malfoy had stolen the formers rememberall, Harry Potter had become Gryffindor seeker.

Yes, a very exciting class indeed.

"Hazel's it!" A muggleborn Ravenclaw, Lisa Turpin, whom Hazel had been formal acquaintances with in the previous timeline, shouted as she tapped Hazel's shoulder daintily.

She practically jumped before leaping into action.

In an instant, Hazel bad broken up a group of five or six students, who zoomed quickly out of her way, but with nimble fingers, Hazel caught Kevin Entwhistle's ear, causing him to yelp slightly in surprise.

"Whoo!" Oliver shouted, having become very comfortable in the air. "How'd'ja do that, Hazy!?"

The youngest Potter, as the elder twin liked to remind her, just grinned back mysteriously, eyes flashing with mischief as Entwhistle hooked Oliver 'round the head, making Oliver it.

In a slightly clumsy fashion, Oliver moved forward, silent, as he tapped Zach's shoulder, causing the idiot to jump out of his skin.

He wailed pathetically and flattened himself to his broom, shooting forward at a downwards angle at a very quick pace.

"No!" Hazel shouted, zooming after Zach. Almost no one was overly fond of Zach, but that didn't mean they had to kill him. Though the narrator would gladly do so if the readers requested it. Anything for thine readers, said the narrator.

Whipping her hand out, she snatched the edge of the brunette's cloak, pulling so fiercely that the broom he had been riding jolted to a stop.

Stunned silence.

No, not silence.

Megan was whooping with delight and Madame Hooch was screaming in fury.

A Ravenclaw girl, Su Li, almost fell off her broom in shock.

"Mr. Smith!" Fumed Madame Hooch. "If you ever do something as dumb as to dive at the ground again, I will have you out of this school before you can say quidditch!" In the previous timeline, Zach had hit the ground at full force and had left the school due to how dangerous it was, choosing to be homeschooled by his parents. He had been killed during Hazel's fifth year.

"-That broom, Smith, before you hurt yourself or someone else! To the hospital wing with you, Madame Pomfrey will be spare when she learns of yet another flying accident! And a detention with Professor Sprout for lack of care about safety! And ten points from Hufflepuff!"

Hooch then turned her full glare on Hazel. "And you, Ms. Potter, will have a a week of detention with Professor McGonogall, each one writing and essay about the importance of safety! I would never have forgiven myself in any more students were hurt flying today! You idiot brother could have killed himself catching that rememberall! Ten points from Hufflepuff for pure stupidity!"

The flying lesson ended glumly that day, but after, Cedric approached Hazel, having been watching the lesson for possible quidditch talents.

His voice was a quiet murmur as he bustled Hazel towards the hospital wing with Zach.

"Where did you learn to fly like that?" Notes of contained excitement reached through the baratone voice.

"I didn't," Hazel replied in a voice equally low. "It was instinct."

Cedric looked at her in awe, smiling proudly. "I knew you had it in you! Next year, you are trying out for seeker. I'd tell you to do so this year, but your a first year, and that's not allowed, so letting you on the team would be unfair."

He pouted at the very thought of unfairness. What a perfect Hufflepuff.

"I'll definitely try out. I love the air." A wistful look graced her dainty features as her flute-like voice sounded in its whispery tones.

"I wrote a poem once, about the wind rushing at my face, that's how flying feels. Like I can do anything, be that get an O in potions or save the world. When I fly, I am truly free, and I know, flight is the cure for every single, last evil. Perhaps Ry will be on the team. I wouldn't put it past McGonogall to cheat like that."

Anger twitched, but was quickly replaced by calm. Hazel had excellent control over her emotions. Nothing slipped through her notice. She was a seeker, and one that would be Hufflepuff's seeker someday. She could feel it in her fingers, she could feel it in her toes. Quidditch was all around her, and the feeling grew, oh yes it did. It was written on the walls, it was everywhere she went.

The narrator is in a nostalgic mood, recalling the good old days when they got to joke around in class.

Back to the story.

Cedric's impassive face twitched with anger. "Oh, she would do anything to win, especially now that her cubs have been beaten by Slytherin for nine years running. Those lot are like dumb Ravenclaws, no offense to Harry, though. They are just so competitive. Honestly, I don't know why anyone would be like that. In the end, all they do is make others feel bad because they weren't so good." He then snorted. "I guess Granger's sorting makes sense, though. Damn, she is like a mini McGonogall. Anyways," Cedric drew out the word, "Derrick will probably let you be a reserve or something this year so he's allowed to train you for being seeker next year. He'd be honoured that someone actually likes his position. Most of the credit goes to chasers, but seeker is the most important in the end. I'm on the team, by the way, so I can't wait to see you at practice."

Hazel couldn't wait for the first practice. She was a born flier, hopped on a broom the first time and could pull off a wronsky faint in a matter of a few, teeny months. She was as good as her brother.

That night a tremble passed through the castle as Hazel was sleeping in her bed, jolting her awake along with Megan.

"What was that?" The burnette whispered, not wanting to wake the others.

But Hazel wasn't listening.

"Harry..."


	13. Chapter 13: Elephant

Yes, Harry indeed. Harry, Harry, Harry (please note the Lockhart creepiness inserted in the previous statement).

He had a temper, that Harry did. All blowing things up and other pyro kinetic tendencies.

But that was not the point of their conversation.

The point was the immense elephant trampling through the room that no one wanted to address.

That point being, the one that Harry addressed just then.

"What will we do about the stone?"

He asked in a language that was rarely spoken, Common Brittonic, the long since dead language of the British Isles.

And Hazel looked on at her older twin by just eleven minutes, and sighed. _"We'll have to do the same I suppose. But, then again, we know that the idiot professor can't actually get the stone, if Dumbles used the same stuff as last time."_

Harry frowned as they sat in the Courtyard, both leaning back against the same tree.

"But what if he didn't?"

Harry's voice was the perfect epitome of calm, but Hazel could detect the faint notes of worry that simply could not be stomped out, no matter how hard one tried. Thankfully, only someone very close to the person could notice the faint flickers beneath the calm demeanor.

"_We can head down the trapdoor at some point in June. Then we know the idiot professor won't have gone down yet. Then again, we should probably check tonight_."

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Wicked," he stated in English, causing a passing first year to stare at him in confusion.

"Of course, Fluffykins could probably kill us,"

Hazel mused, her inner-Luna showing through.

They were receiving strange looks from passing students at the use of an unknown language that _sounded_ like English, but was also similar to gibberish. It was an intricate mix of defined words and slurred sentences. They could occasionally pick out a word, like 'Fluffykins' or 'idiot' as being English or nearly so, but were still confused by the words like 'artpodes', meaning trapdoor.

And hence the twins ignored the strange looks, continuing to talk about the matter of dear, dear Fluffy the rabid, three-headed dog who would love to kill them.

Slowly, the conversation turned to the Dursleys, and possible ways to be rid of the horrid creatures that were, for some reason, considered humans. How strange. The Dursleys. Homo sapiens sapiens. Weird, decidedly so.

Neither twin was anxious to be locked in their shared room for a whole summer, slowly starving to death only to be rescued by Ronald Weasley, who would be 'worried' that they hadn't been answering their 'best mates' letters. The summer following that would be less than pleasant. Perhaps even worse.

Hazel shuddered at the very thought of such things, before turning the topic to their godfather, Sirius Orion Black.

"_We should free him,_" Hazel argued, thinking only of the good of the haggard man.

"_He works for Dumbledore. Besides, if we leave him in Azkaban he'll live._"

"_Yet if we legally free him, all of a sudden he won't have to rescue us. Then he'll live,_" Hazel reasoned softly.

It was in her nature to want anyone who could survive to survive. Deep down, Hazel knew that she hated Sirius in some strange way, but that didn't mean he wasn't a good person.

The conversation changed to their friends, whom they addressed by codenames. Oliver was 'River', Megan 'Cat', Dean went by 'football' and finally Neville with 'serpent-slayer'.

"_I want them to know. Serpent-slayer is an amazing person who just needs the right push. Football is creative, artsy, spontaneous and all around amazing, just like Serpent-slayer. Cat? Well, you know me, sister. As for River, well, if he's your friend, he has the right to know,_" Harry said passionately, while miming something ridiculous that was totally misleading to what their conversation was.

Hazel 'hmm'ed softly in agreement, knowing exactly what her brother meant. They were twins, after all. They spent all the time in the world together, and nothing could change that for either of them.

Hazel loved her friends and would never betray them for anything, but that also meant that the red-turning-brown haired girl could also be too trusting. It wasn't like either thought that their friends would betray them (Neville being a given not to), but they could never be too careful, as dear old aunt Marge said (note the sarcasm), for they annoyed Ripper and had to be very careful indeed.

They lapsed into silence, smiling softly in the evening light of a Friday night, for both had finished their dorm work and had no desire for more work.

When it seemed that it was getting too late to be outside, they both stood, stretching, before parting ways for their own dormitories, neither wanting to be apart from the other.

The walk back to Hazel's common room was slow. She stopped frequently to watch the ghosts floating by, or the portraits argue. Eventually, she slipped into the massive, cavernous two-story common room, smiling as she made her way to Oliver and Megan, both of whom looked exhausted and ready for a good nights sleep.

Some of the fifth, sixth and seventh years were studying ferociously for the still far away exams, along with a girl who seemed to be a Ravenclaw that had joined her friends to study.

The third years were discussing their elective choices, moaning about Divination being ridiculous, or Ancient Runes being really hard. Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures seemed to be the favourites.

Cedric had taken Runes, Care and Muggle Studies, as each was offered on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoons after the regular classes. He found Runes, while difficult, absolutely fascinating and couldn't wait for more. Care he liked because of the relaxed atmosphere, even if their teacher was down to only two limbs, an arm and a leg. Muggle Studies was pretty much so that he would understand more about the society that the magical one coexisted with.

He had learned that all muggles wore suits, rode around on horses and were rather fond of duels to the death.

Naturally, that had all come from the old, western movie that had been played in an immense pensieve the first class.

Hazel pulled out her dictionary as the common room slowly trickled empty, and was reading long into the night.


	14. Chapter 14: Yeah? Happy Christmas

They had decided. Argument upon argument, whenever they passed in the halls, when they met up at night, each meal, when they sat side by side, whenever they could.

It took a long time, nearly a month, to reach the decision that they had.

It was official.

Chandra the owl was amazing.

Well, they had known that for a while, but it was still worth arguing about.

Next decision, Dudley sucked to the pits of whatever was a terrible place.

A long pause spread through the empty courtyard on December fourteenth, a Saturday, when the six first years gathered in a empty area, all wrapped up in warm, winter cloaks and fizzy scarves.

Before they truly began to tell what they wanted to tell, the twins sat, side-by-side, murmuring softly in Britannic.

"_You still sure, brother?_"

"_As I'll ever be, Hazey-Haze._"

A soft pause spread through the already silent courtyard, before Harry began to speak in his quiet voice.

"We need to tell you something."

The reaction was instantaneous. Megan blinked, as though confused, Neville right next to her. Oliver leaned forward in anticipation while Dean frowned in confusion, before following Oliver's example.

After a few moments, Oliver, the most coherent of them, urged the small, black-haired boy on. "Speak."

So Harry did.

As soon as the green-eyed should-be-seventeen year old began to speak the whole story poured forth in a mess of jumbled words that formed sentences.

Harry James Potter, the boy who rarely spoke, was rambling.

The narrator is tempted to right 'WTFF' (what the flippity-flip) but will regain from doing so out of the need to speak to friends nearby.

Since said friend has now continued to walk, the narrator will.

What the flippity-flip.

Harry? _Rambling_? The world is coming to an end!

Neville was watching, an expression of absolute horror painted on his face, as though the world were ending right before his eyes.

After fifteen minutes, Harry stopped for his first gasp of breath, and questions came in an abundance.

"Wait, what?"

"How are you here?"

"Why tell us?"

"Does anyone die?"

"Oh my Merlin, we're going to die!"

The last one being, obviously, not a question. Honestly, children (note scratchy voice), a question mark (?) means it's a question, an exclamation point (!) means it's a more excited tone!

Hazel hushed them quietly, before answering. "Seriously, Iver, 'wait, what?'? I think you know and I don' wanna explain. GRJones gave us a hand. We felt like it. Yes, like, everyone. And now, you won't."

Harry was sitting back, perfectly silent, watching with an expression of peace. Megan seemed quiet, contemplative, curious.

Finally, she asked a good question. "What are you going to do?"

And silence hung over the twins as they exchanged glances.

"This year, we will kill the idiot, whose name we can't mention and keep the Philosopher's Stone from _Dark One_." The last words sounded as 'Hesemsh En'. "Next year, the _Weaslette-" _Keaselette "-can die for all we care, and we want to stop the basilisk before it petrified anyone."

Cue gasps.

"In third year, we'll free our godfather, put an end to the flipping dementors and send Wormy to Hades. Fourth year has one main goal: he _will _survive. And from their? Well, let's just say it should be totally normal. Oh, and we need you all to swear on the River Styx that you will never reveal this information to anyone."

Dean, the bravest, went first. "I, Dean Thomas, swear upon the River Styx not to reveal anything that Hazel Sage Potter and Harry James Potter revealed today without their consent."

Then Megan. "I, Megan Jones, swear upon the River Styx not to reveal anything that Hazel Sage Potter and Harry James Potter revealed today without their consent."

Third was Neville. "I, Neville Longbottom, swear upon the River Styx not to reveal anything that Hazel Sage Potter and Harry James Potter revealed today without their consent."

Finally Oliver. "I, Oliver Rivers, swear upon the River Styx not to reveal anything that Hazel Sage Potter and Harry James Potter revealed today without their consent."

Oaths done, the twins relaxed, allowing smiles to slip onto their features and Hazel leaned gently against her brother, head resting on his shoulder. Never sleeping for more than two hours had its downfalls.

A yawn ripped through her throat and then an idea sprang to her mind like a lion leaping from a tree.

"We should get the D.A. started this year!"

And a scary grin ripped across Harry's face. "With teacher consent, of course."

And suddenly their four friends looked very, very nervous. When Harry looked scary, Harry looked scary...

Then laughter tore through Neville's throat. "You're insane, mate. This D.A. sounds like a recipe for blowing up the school!"

"Can we?"

"No!"

"But I-"

"-really want-"

"-to-"

"-blow up this-"

"-idiotic schoo!"

Oh dear Force, what has the narrator done! Now the twins are acting like weasels, and the weasels will be all quiet and shy and words, words, so many words...

Sorry, the narrator was writing poems this fine, rainy, boring, Maze Runner filled day...

Anyways...

Well what else? Ah, yes.

Oliver had shrunk back to hide behind a tree, Megan looked scandalized, while Dean had an expression of horror pasted onto his face and Neville simply stared unbelievingly.

Two days later, things were back to normal with classes.

Two weeks after that, the school was empty save for Harry and Hazel Potter. Christmas was nearly upon them and presents had been sent.

So the twins sat together in the cozy Gryffindor Common Room and together were singing Christmas carols and laughing gently. Smiles played along their faces and they were acting the way they would have on a Christmas away from school.

The fire was cackling warmly and the twins stared into the flames with identical expressions.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Christmas."


	15. Chapter 15: Cloak

Chirstmas came the next day with no special cheer or anything of the sort. The twins spent the day in the third corridor, watching Fluffy, who was snoozing softly at the playing of a bit of magical music, which Harry was tapping his hand on his leg to the rhythm of a tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap-tap, and so forth.

They watched the dog in silence for as long as they thought they could get away with, before slipping away from the room, door closing after them to head to Christmas breakfast in the Great Hall at around nine that morning.

Hazel hardly ate, just the same as her twin who sat by her side. Neither had recieved presents from the Dursleys and Christmas had never been a good time for them.

From their friends had been books on becoming animagi, flying for their respective positions, their different classes, a few sets of quills and parchment and a few different types of wizarding candy, including sugar quills, which made the twins laugh and smile.

They sucked on the quills while doing their holiday homework, which was completed with ease, before going into an intense game of wizarding chess that lasted for a few hours, making it one of their longest games. Both twins loved wizarding chess. They had been playing for years as a way to improve their stradegic minds; it had reached the point where either of the twins could have easily beaten Weasley on any given occasion, but the other gave them a heckload of trouble until, finally, Hazel won.

Since they were pretty much the only students left in the school, they had free rein of the whole place and could be seen dashing down hallways and having snowball fights in the frosty snow, warming charms having been placed on their clothes to keep them warm.

Neither twin had recieved the invisability cloak from Dumbledore, so they assumed that he did not trust them with it, which, while a good assumption, was completely incorrect. They intended to confront Dumbledore.

* * *

"Excuse me, sir, but my twin and I were wondering when you would return our family heirloom."

Hazel had spoken up during the very quiet dinner that night, adressing Dumbledore, much to the confusion of the other teachers.

"Ehm, I do not know what you are talking about, dear girl," he replied, doing his best to look confused.

"I think you do, sir, afterall, you were the one whom our father told that the heirloom would be returned to our family by our eleventh Chirstmas, a day that passed yesterday."

Dumbledore stared at her in horror. "I still do not know what you are talking about, Hazel."

Expression becoming dangerous, Hazel glared at the headmaster. "The cloak, sir, the one that Father lent to you shortly before he died. Harry and I wish for it to be returned. And you do not have permission to call me by my personal name. You may adress me as Ms. Potter."

McGonogall cut in. "Ms. Potter! You will adress the headmaster with respect! If Professor Dumbledore says that he has not seen this cloak of yours, then he has not."

"I would suggest that you allowed my sister to retrieve our heirloom, Ma'am. This is none of your business." Harry spoke that time wearing the same glare as his sister as they watched the 'headmaster'. More like incompetent, over-powered fool. Or chaotic, over-controlling menace. Either way worked. Both were deregatory. If they were deregatory, either way worked. T'was the way the twin's minds worked.

Dumbledore glared back at them. "You may be excused."

* * *

**I sincerely feel really bad. This is only 600 words, but I have no inspiration and don't really care. I just finished my first FFN multi-chap on a different account and I was happy until I continued writing this. I won't abandon it (probably), so don't worry but my updates will take longer.**


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